


The Judge

by neato_burrito



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Be gentle i'm new lol, Deputy is a little shit and i love it, Eventual Smut, F/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Slow Burn, Voyeurism, big mountain daddy, trying to write jacob as authentically as possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neato_burrito/pseuds/neato_burrito
Summary: Junior deputy Dana didn't plan on spearheading a resistance movement in Hope County, but after the helicopter crash what choice does she have? Now, as she works her way through the Northern region, she finds herself facing off against her toughest opposition, trying to keep from losing her mind. And why does she find herself so damn curious about the oldest Seed brother?Picks up after defeating John, but in this world she skipped Hope's region and went straight to Jacobs. This is my first fic. Would love input. :)





	1. TRAIN HUNT KILL SACRIFICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junior Deputy Dana meets Jacob for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is my first time writing a fic. Hope you guys will enjoy it. This first chapter was just sort of me finding a base of sorts in canon game events before diverging. Sorry about dialogue I'm sure you've heard, but hopefully you get a bit of a feel for the deputy. Btw, I don't want to do a lot of definite description of the character, as I'd like to indulge those who wanna sorta self-insert. However, I wanted the deputy to have a name to be referenced by, and since Dana is biblical name that means "Judge," it felt fitting.  
> Also, y'all, I was watching stuff like "Unbelievable .50 BMG Whitetail Deer Hunt" on Youtube for research. I fxked up my algorithm and now I'm getting pro-concealed carry ads. Press F to pay respects.

Junior deputy Dana could feel the sweat trickle down the back of her neck as she held her angle. Her position on top of a steep hill, about 500 yards from the outpost, was an excellent vantage point, but the sun was beating down on her back. She could hear the last few peggies yelling inside of the building. She had already taken out both of the alarms surrounding the outpost and the peggies that had been outside. Just be patient, she thought to herself.

The last two peggies finally emerged, realizing that something was wrong and deciding to check it out. In a natural flow she pinged them, starting with the furthest back who was standing in the doorway. He was still, easy headshot. The second heard the body drop behind him and whipped around, she missed the head but her bullet still connected with his torso and he fell limp. Even if her aim wasn't perfect, a .50 cal is hard to take and keep standing. 

She had never killed as frequently as she had in the past few weeks. She was still detaching herself from the emotions of it. But when she was given too long to think, her mind would begin to process it and she found herself looking for more distractions. Luckily, it wasn't hard to find a outpost that needed liberating or a task to run for the locals. 

She packed up her rifle and swung it over her back as she headed towards the base. She kept her grip on her silenced 1911 as he began surveying the outpost, confirming that she had gotten everyone. When she was sure, she pulled out her radio and broadcasted to Dutch.

"Dutch, it's Dep, I'm just north of Cleggett Bay, at Elk Jaw Lodge," she began. "Get some people over here to round up supplies and secure it. Over."

"Rook, I didn't hear anything over the radio from the peggies, did they even see you coming?" Dutch chuckled. "I've got some people nearby, they'll be there soon. Over."

She got a sense of pride from being able to take out an entire outpost by herself, without being seen once. At the same time, she felt twisted for feeling that way. She had only killed a handful of people when she was still in the army. Women didn't see a lot of combat still. When she had, it was because her transport was ambushed. 

After she got out at 24, therapy had pretty much resolved the trauma. Now, two years later, she had thought her new position as junior deputy would have kept her mostly out of real danger. She had been wrong. The sheriff had been right, messing with the cult had not gone well.

She had started hiking further north, and could barely see the smoke rising from the lodge behind her. It was then that her radio crackled to life.

"There is someone out there, pretending to be a soldier." 

She vaguely recognized the voice. Was that Jacob Seed? 

"They are killing our brothers and sisters and putting this Project in jeopardy. I want this coward to know that they have my attention."  
He must have been alerted about the outpost by now. 

"My hunters are coming for you. There's nowhere you can run."

She was in the middle of the woods by now, she kept pressing forwards. Her radio lit up again, this time from Dutch.

"'Hunters' doesn't sound too good... if Jacob wants you, he's gonna send his best out after you. You watch your back, Deputy."

She kept moving, checking her surroundings. Suddenly, without warning, she felt a pain in her thigh. An arrow, she realized when she looked down. Her mind began to race, and her vision blurred. She felt dizzy, and fell to the ground before passing out.

\---

She felt someone moving her body. When her eyes opened, she saw Pratt. She went to speak to him but her mouth was gagged. He was tying her up. He whispered to her that she shouldn't have come for him before skittered off to the side. A projector flashed an image of a decaying deer on the wall ahead of her.

"This world is weak. Soft." 

The voice was the same as the one from the radio earlier, only more commanding in person. Another slide popped up, a wolf eating a carcass. She wondered who was responsible for picking the slides. Did they pay for stock photos or was there a cult photographer? Maybe Jacob was handy with a camera.

"We have forgotten what it is to be strong," he continued. 

The back of a tall man emerged from the darkness and into the light of the projector. He must have been around 6'3" with short red hair on the top of his head. His broad frame was covered by a military jacket and light jeans.

"You know our heroes used to be gods. And now our heroes are godless."

Pretentious, was all she could think. 

"Weak, feeble, diseased. We let the weak dictate to the powerful and then we are shocked to find ourselves... adrift."

He had turned around by now, emphasizing the last words with his hands. He had blue eyes, and a trimmed beard. His face, though tough to fully make out through the projectors image, was more handsome than she had pictured. She could tell there was some scarring on his cheeks, but he had good bone structure. John had been more manicured, but seeing Jacob now it was clear they were related.

His voice was low and gravely as he continued his monologue. 

"But history knows the value of sacrifice. Of culling the herd, so that it stays strong. Over and over, the lives of the many have outweighed the lives of the few. This is how we survived. And we've forgotten, and now the bill has come due."

Jacob had started to move closer towards her. He sauntered over to her and leaned down to pull her chair forwards as he spoke. The slight wind from his movement towards her brought the scent of woods and earth. Much more pleasant than the smell of blood and filth that seemed to haunt the room.

"Now, the Collapse is upon us, and this time the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many."

He stared into her eyes; one blue eye was illuminated by the projectors light, while the other glinted from the darkness. His gaze was intense, focused.

"And when a nation that's never known hunger or desperation descends into madness, we'll be ready."

His eyes never wavered from hers as he moved back to his full height. He only broke it when he turned to pick up a box that sat next to the projector.

"We will cull the herd."

His words sent a chill down her spine. He started to wind the box, looking behind her at what seemed to be nothing in particular.

"We will do what needs to be done."

He finished winding the box. As he opened it, she heard the opening notes of some old song, from maybe the 40's or 50's. Her head started to split with a terrible headache, and her vision blurred and faded to dark yet again.

\---

Voices murmuring around her drove her to consciousness. She woke up in pain, her muscles were sore and her body was bruised. The smells around her were strong and putrid, part rot and part human filth. Memories from what seemed like a dream swarmed her brain. Memories of running a course- of killing everyone she saw.

She finally made out a full sentence from the murmurs.

"Why are we bothering with this? They're all dea-"

"Check 'em anyways!" A second voice interrupted the first. 

"Why am I always stuck on corpse duty?" The first voice muttered. She felt the chair she was strapped to be lifted and opened her eyes to see the source of the voice.

"Holy fuck!" The young man shouted, and jumped back dropping her.

"We got a live one!" 

The rest was a bit of a blur, the men helped her out of the chair and out of the building into a van. She had heard of the Whitetails leading the resistance in Jacob's territory, but hadn't gotten around to contacting them yet. They took her back to their base of operations. Eli, the second voice, seemed to like her. Wheaty, the first, was impartial. 

However, when they got back to the base, a women named Tammy almost shit her pants when she saw the Deputy. Tammy yelled about what going through that does to someone, how she'd seen it before. What had they seen? The deputy wasn't sure why she was being treated like a monster. She didn't feel different, just sore.

\---

Over the next week, she helped Eli with a few missions. Nothing that different from what she had already done, but it felt nice to do things with other people. Eventually, she started to go off on her own more. The fear of being taken again was starting to pass. She felt less need to rely on safety in numbers.

A local had told her about an outpost nearby. After a few scouting missions, she felt she had a good idea of how to take it over. The trek there with her bag of weapons was long, but they always were. She had found an ideal vantage spot on her last trip past the place and when she arrived, she went to work setting up her rifle. She had traditionally been more of a close combat fighter, but facing off against an entire base demanded she be smart. Smart meant picking them off one by one.

She was laying down now, her rifle on a stand. She was in her regular outfit for these type of missions: camo pants, hiking boots, a tactical vest over a black long sleeved shirt and wraps on her hands. Her hair was pulled back into the same type of bun she'd employed over her years in the army. She was glad the sun wasn't as high in the sky, it made laying still less uncomfortable. She'd spent enough time, both in the past few weeks and during her time in the army, patiently waiting for the right moment.

Before she had set up her rifle, she'd made sure to despatch of few cultists that were furthest from others. Sneaking up behind them and taking them out with her silently with her hands. She'd hid their bodies behind trees or boxes. 

Now, she was waiting for a daily transport to leave. With a couple extra cultists gone, it'd be easier to take. Finally, the truck and a handful of peggies pulled out of the gates. She counted about six left over the entire outpost, and they were playing their music rather loud. After a few suppressed shots to take out the alarms, she started to line up her shot for a cultist on the roof. 

Before she could take it, something out of the schedule happened. A convoy started approaching the base. One jeep in front and a van behind it. She pointed her rifle in that direction for a better view and realized that none other than Jacob Seed was driving the jeep. She couldn't decide if this was good luck or bad. 

On one hand, more people. On the other, what if she could take out Jacob today? Her finger wrapped around the trigger and she tried to figure out how far ahead of the jeep she needed to aim in order to match the vehicles speed. She took a slow, deep breath, and held it. 

1.. 2.. 3.. pull. 

Fuck, he had braked unexpectedly. The bullet smashed through the windshield, cracking and blocking her sight of inside the vehicle. She didn't see a splay of red on the glass, however, so she doubted it had vitally hit him, if at all. With the side view she had of the jeep, at best it had hit the driver's side door. The cultists jumped into action. She'd blown her spot, and it hadn't even paid off. She sprang to her knees, ripped off her earmuffs, and quickly packed away her gun. 

She sprinted off into the woods without looking back. Dana cursed herself as she hustled between trees. It'd taken a few days to map out the spot and observe key routines. It wasn't good luck that Jacob had shown up. It had put a few days work to waste. 

When she felt she was far enough away, she sat down behind a large rock and took a breather. Static from her radio alerted her that someone was trying to contact her. She pulled it out as Jacob started to speak.

"I can't think of many people dumb enough to try that. Only you, Deputy, would've pulled that stunt."

His voice was low but level. As he spoke, his voice lost some composure and Dana knew she'd annoyed him.

"Pratt told me you'd been in the Army. I'd guess you got a marksman badge at best. Maybe next time I collect you, I'll show you how to anticipate before you shoot."


	2. I don't think stupid covers it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all that stuff you overhear peggies say is useful and the deputy gets an eyeful.

Dana rested her head against the rock behind her. 'Next time he collected her.' She didn't want to go back to the horrid place. She didn't want the deep headache that had taken two days to fully quit.

She wondered if he was still at the outpost, or if he had fled back to St. Francis? Dana mulled over the two options she saw in her head. Either security was beefed up, or he wouldn't expect a second attempt. The first was the most likely, but shit, she'd already tried something stupid today. Why quit now? 

The sun was almost completely set by the time she'd made it back to the base. She snuck closer to the fences purposefully. She'd found that peggies liked to gossip. It took a good twenty minutes before anything relevant was said, but big mouthed peggies were dependable as always.

"The shit earlier, who would even try that?"

"Fools. God won't let them take Jacob. He's a soldier of God."

"He is truly anointed by God."

"I only wish that he wasn't forced to return to St. Francis before the meeting." 

"The lord works in mysterious ways, brother."

The outpost wasn't far from St. Francis. As quietly as she had gotten to the fence, she disappeared back into the woods. She stole a nearby truck and got as close to St. Francis as she dared to in a vehicle. She hid her rifle bag and tactical vest and continued on foot with her hunting knife, trusty 1911 in holster, and a small backpack containing ammo and grappling gear. 

She was surprised by the lack of cultists around the back. They must have been depending on the Judges to keep most of the grounds clear, and Dana had been able to slip by those. She grappled to the roof and gathered the rope onto the roof to hide her tracks.

It felt wrong how lucky she had been tonight. She tried to shake that feeling, and slowly made her way to the front of the building. She'd seen enough photos at the Wolf's Den to know that there was a ledge leading into Jacob's apparent office. When she reached the front, she took in the courtyard before her. She saw quite a few locals in cages. Wolves too. There were definitely more peggies patrolling in front. She couldn't believe Jacob didn't have better placed security. 

She lowered herself onto the balcony below and pressed close to the walls. She listened for movement inside for a few minutes, but heard nothing. She peeked into the windows of the glass door. The lights were dimmed, and it appeared no one was in there after a scan of the room. She tried the handle, and was pleased when it opened. She poked into the room, confirming that it was indeed empty. 

A sort of main desk was set up in the middle of the room covered in papers, notes, and a map of the region. The intel she could take would surely be helpful. A modest bed, looking to be about a "full" size, was tucked in the corner to her right. Nearby stood a large closet, cracked open and full of jackets and what looked like hunting overalls. Some filing cabinets stood nearby.

Dana made her move toward the desk. Just as she was about to start looking over the papers, she heard footsteps approaching the room, startled, she breathlessly rushed to the closet, which could easily fit three people, and stepped into it. She carefully hid behind the longest hanging clothes and put the doors back like they had been, one closed and the other cracked open. She couldn't see the door from her spot, only the bed and night stand area. The footsteps stopped just outside the door and she heard Jacob scolding someone.

"Peaches," he seethed. "I'm fine, go back to doing your report."

"Y-yes sir," a timid but familiar voice replied.

Footsteps trailed away and the door opened and closed as Jacob entered. She heard him fumble around with something on the desk before he walked over to sit on his bed. He sat there for a moment in apparent contemplation before grimacing a bit and taking off his military jacket. Underneath he wore a gray long sleeved shirt covered in various stains. She could see the sleeve of his left arm was somewhat bloodied. 

She felt her throat tighten as he removed that layer as well, leaving only dog tags that clinked against his chest. He was definitely in shape. His chest was toned but thick, his torso as broad she'd figured it would be. She was surprised to not see any cult tattoos amongst the knife and bullet hole scars. Red hair speckled his chest and trailed down to a thicker strip around his naval. The rash of sores and scars on his arms didn't carry up much past his elbows, and she wondered where they came from. Chemicals, maybe?

His left arm was bandaged, but she knew she couldn't have struck directly through it, perhaps just a graze. If she had hit it directly, she doubted he would still have an attached limb. He inspected the bandages before slowly removing them, revealing a stitched up wound on the side of his arm and light bruising over the area. Reaching into a nearby nightstand, he pulled out fresh bandages and went to work. 

Dana did her best to remain quiet, and still. She began to think about how she could pull out her pistol and finish what she started. Reaching ever so slowly, she began to pull her pistol from its holster. As she pulled it out, she grip fumbled a bit. The pistol slipped from her hands and made a soft clang. Her eyes shot up to Jacob, but he didn't flinch. 

Holy shit. 

It made some sense, but his ears might still be slightly damaged from earlier. The impact of a .50 cal can leave anyone's ears ringing for a while. She abandoned her plan, scared to test it further for the time being. 

Jacob finished bandaging and left her field of vision, passing to the other side of the room. She heard the sounds of water slopping around. After a few minutes, he came back. The grime that had covered his torso and face was gone and a few droplets of water were still sliding down his scarred chest. Dana was mostly surprised he had any sense of hygiene, but she was also surprised by how she felt. She couldn't deny the slight flutter in her belly at the sight of him. Suddenly, he turned towards the closet and headed her way.

Fuck!

Dana began to reach for her pistol, just as he fully opened the door. His eyes shot to hers and she watched the quick succession of emotions on his face. Shock, confusion, anger. She was fast, but he was more so, even caught off guard. He gripped her arm as soon as she pulled her pistol. 

"What the fuck," he growled, but she wasn't sure if it was an actual question. 

"I don't think stupid covers it," he muttered, pulling her from the cabinet. 

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked bluntly, adrenaline surging through her body. There was no way she walked out of here after what she attempted earlier. He pulled the gun from her hand and threw it to the other side of the room. She tried to hit the hand holding her, but he just grabbed her free arm with his other hand.  
He was close to a foot taller than her and he towered over her as he held her close.

"I can't," he said through gritted teeth. 

"As soon as Joseph lets me..." He said more quietly, trailing off. He pulled her arms behind her back and pushed her over to the bed. He kneed her back and forced her to fall onto the mattress. He transferred both of her arms into just one hand and used the other to rummage in a nearby drawer and pull out zip tie. She felt him secure her hands before he finally flipped her over to look at him.

"Why do you keep zip ties in your bed stand? I didn't know old men like you got laid, let alone got kinky," she jabbed. She couldn't help herself, she felt bitter for being caught. 

He scowled at her in response.

"It was handy I had them just now, wasn't it?" He answered. He seemed to remember that he hadn't gone to the closet to collect a deputy, because he went back to the closet and pulled out a white wife beater that he slid on. It fit tightly against his chest, all the same muscle definition still visible.

He grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it over, turning the chair to face away from her before sitting backwards in it.

"Did you come here for sniping tips?" he poked.

"No, believe me, if you hadn't braked when you did you'd be way worse off," she defended herself.

He offered a firm smile.

"Don't make excuses for your weakness," he chided. "You still have so much training to do. I was near the gate, you should have realized I would slow down. You should have taken the shot sooner."

She narrowed her eyes in defiance.

"Should I give you tips on security?" she poked back. His eyes darkened a bit. Gotcha, she thought. 

"The end result is still you tied up. If my ears weren't still ringing ever so slightly I'm sure I would have sensed you earlier. The strong always prevail."

"Don't make excuses for your weakness," she parroted back. That earned her a restrained slap to her face. She knew he was holding back, because he could surely have hit her harder.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Being stupid," she said, giving her best shit eating grin. He scoffed in agreement. 

"Whatever the case, it's not time to train again yet," he said, appearing to ponder his options. He stood up suddenly. From her point of view on the bed, he looked even taller and intimidating. He went back into his drawer and pulled out another zip tie. He raised her hands above her head and connected the zip tie currently on her wrists to the headboard of the bed. 

"What now?" she asked.

"You're just gonna stay put until I have a use for you," he replied. He pulled a knife from his belt and cut her backpack off.

“Ya know, there's more polite ways to do that, caveman,” she snarked.

“I’m sure you can find another one,” he muttered. He briefly looked through its contents before tossing it by the closet. He grabbed the knife from her boot and slipped it into his pocket.

“Anything else on you I should know about?” he questioned, as if he trusted her to be completely honest. When she didn’t respond right away he sort of shrugged and patted down her inner and outer thighs. 

Another twinge in her stomach. It was an odd sensation, being turned on and scared at the same time. He turned and went back to his desk. She settled in and watched as he worked. Sifting through papers and jotting things down into a notebook. His face was so focused. 

Dana found herself simply watching as he moved his arms, the muscles vaguely flexing and unflexing. He glanced over at least once, making eye contact for a little bit before turning back. She felt content that he wasn’t going to do anything bad for right now, so she didn’t fight it when her eyelids got heavy and sleep beckoned her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought about it and idk if a .50 cal would make as much noise at the site of impact as it does when the gun is next to your ear. But like, I saw a video where this guy didn't even hit the deer with the bullet, it just passed by so close to it's head that the deer's eyes were like sucked out of the head and it died. Apologies for gore. But like, I think it's safe to say a .50 cal could fuck with someone's ear drums?
> 
> Stuff will probably get a littttle more heated next chapter, but like, slow burns are totes the best.


	3. That JFK shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogation time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so no real heat this chapter, just didn't feel right yet?

Dana woke to the sound of pained grunts coming from somewhere in the dark room. The lamp on the center desk was no longer on. The only light was the moon shining in through the large glass doors that led to the balcony. When her eyes adjusted more, she found the source of the noise to be Jacob, who had apparently fallen asleep at his desk. She hadn’t even thought about where Jacob would sleep if she was tied to his bed, and began to question his tactical rational.

His groaning was inconsistent. After each one, he would quiet down for a few seconds before making another troubled noise. Dana was familiar with his struggle. She’d seen it too many times before. A distinct memory always stood out to her. She’d been on guard duty watching the barracks. There was a large field next to them, used for drills or exercises. It had been a quiet night, with nothing of great importance happening, and she had admittedly started paying less attention.  
Suddenly, she noticed someone in the middle of the field with a gun. They were standing straight up, running through rifle drills.

Completely taken aback by the sight, she had slowly approached them. She noticed the uniform and knew it was one of her peers. She knew the guy, his name was Rodgers. They’d spoken a few times before and he’d seemed like a pretty decent guy. But here he was, mumbling to himself and running drills in the middle of the night. Within the next few weeks, he was being honorably discharged from the army. Within that same year, word got back to her that he’d killed himself. That was the worst case she’d seen. But she had seen plenty of others with issues sleeping and terrible nightmares. 

The only difference between now and other times she’d seen it was that Jacob wasn’t her comrade. He was the enemy. He’d done some sick fucking things, and not for a good cause. Seeing him vulnerable in any other way besides having her knife at his throat, felt strange and unnerving. 

With a loud gasp, Jacob abruptly sat straight up and his palms slapped against the table as he braced himself. Dana shut her eyes and parted her mouth slightly, doing her best to mimic someone sound asleep. As awkward as it was to see him like that, it’d only be worse if he knew. She got the feeling he was the type of guy to handle being embarrassed violently. 

She heard him swear under his breath and peeked through her eyelashes to see him. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for a nearby bottle that didn’t look like it was Aquafina. She was surprised. Even if it wasn’t exactly gluttony yet, it seemed like drinking was looked down upon by Joseph. After a long sip, he peeled off his shirt, which Dana figured must be drenched with sweat. She watched him change into another grey long sleeved shirt, but shut her eyes fully when he turned towards her.

“Wake up,” he growled, shaking her legs. She didn’t want to be too easy to wake, so she she protested a bit. She lightly furrowed her brow and kept still. His hand returned to her lower thigh, shaking a bit harder this time.

“Up,” he commanded. Her eyes fluttered open and she feigned grogginess. 

“What?”

“It’s 5:30, early enough to get up,” he said. “I still need some information from you.”

“There were only like a few wolves in the back, and no one watching the roof,” she explained. “I don’t know if you have cameras, but apparently no one saw me.”

“I don’t mean security info,” he said through gritted teeth. “I mean information on the whitetails, if they’re plotting anything soon. And how you knew about my movements in order to try and pull that JFK shit.” 

“Do I seem like the type of girl that’ll just tell you that shit?” she replied, honestly kind of offended he hadn’t just assumed she’d need to be tortured first.

“No, I was just being courteous and letting you know why you’re about to be moved to the basement,” he responded.

“Hm,” she grunted. “Well, does the basement have a bathroom?”

“You actually have to go?”

“Yeah, I mean, I can go on your bed but I figured you might not like that,” she replied.

He reached down and cut the zip tie connecting her to the headboard before pulling her up to stand. Holding her bond arms he led her out the door and into a hallway. Dana was surprised to see Pratt cowering nearby, as if waiting for whenever Jacob needed him. His left eye bore a somewhat faded bruise and his lips were chapped and cracked. He looked dirty, and miserable. His deputy uniform looked like he’d been wearing it for weeks, and Dana didn’t doubt he had.

“Peaches, your little friend dep has to pee, watch her and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid,” he instructed. “After that, bring her to the basement.”

Dana couldn’t believe it, was he really going to make escaping this easy? Jacob turned and gave Dana a smug smile before pushing her forwards. She stumbled a bit, but caught herself before she fell onto Pratt. He nervously looked from Jacob to Dana before taking hold of her arms and leading her further down the hallway. Once he’d gotten her into the bathroom, he motioned towards the toilet.

“Think you can take care of everything yourself?” He asked. She gawked.

“Are you kidding me? Staci, c’mon, take these off and lets get out of here,” she urged. He shook his head and lowered it in shame.

“I can’t, Rook.”

“Why not?”

“Please, just do what he says, I don’t want him to hurt you,” he pleaded. “Joseph won’t let Jacob kill you, but he never said anything about getting close to it. And me? Jacob could kill me whenever he wanted, and no one that matters to him would care.”

Dana couldn’t believe it. The Staci she knew had never been one to back down. He’d talked a lot of shit, but held up to it too. He was one of the most confident guys she knew. Now he wouldn’t dare even attempting escape. She wondered if he had ever tried, and how many failed attempts it took to take him from the guy she knew to a coward. He kept his gaze away from being directly on her, staring towards the wall behind her in respect.

“I can handle my own shit, I guess,” she muttered. “It’s a shame to see you like this.”

She saw a twinge of sadness in his eyes. Maybe he was still in there somewhere, not yet completely Jacob’s obedient dog. She managed to get her pants off and take care of everything, not that it wasn’t one hell of a process. The tredge to the basement was silent. Dana used it as valuable time to scout the inside of St. Francis. It seemed like typical hospital set-up, with tons of individual rooms. Of course everything was covered in cult logos and it lacked the cleanliness required of a hospital setting. 

When they finally reached the basement, Pratt motioned for her to enter a room off to the right. Inside, the room held only a reworked patient examination table and a tray of various medical equipment and knives. Pratt walked in behind her and grabbed her arms to take her to the table. Making a last ditch effort now that they were alone, Dana turned and brought her knee up hard, taking advantage of every guy’s weak spot. When he instinctively bent over, she elbowed him over the head and sent him to the ground. 

As he fell, Dana raised her hands over her head and slammed them down, using the momentum of the movement to pull her hands apart and snap the zip tie. It didn’t take Pratt too long to recover, and he jumped up and tackled her with his arms around her stomach. He frantically flailed to catch her arms and pin her down more securely, but she struck him back. 

“PEACHES!” Jacob boomed from the doorway. “You’re so pathetically weak.”

Dana used Pratt’s distraction to smack him fully off her. She might have been able to take Pratt one on one and escape, but she doubted she could get past both of them. Pratt scrambled up and over towards Jacob’s side. Dana turned to grab for something from the tray, but between Jacob and Pratt, she was secured to the table in no time. 

Afterwards, Pratt left at Jacob’s command, leaving them alone. The table was raised about halfway up and her arms were secured with thick medical grade fabric restraints. A few more straps restrained her torso and legs. 

“How’d you find out about my transport?” Jacob got right to it.

“Happy accident, honestly,” she shrugged.

“I doubt it,” he replied as he perused the objects laid out on tray. “If there’s a leak within my ranks, a weak spot, I will stop at nothing to cut out the rot.”

“Why would I waste time taking out people before you got there?” she said, hoping to make sense of her explanation. “Why would I risk getting caught before the most  
important target got there? I didn’t know you’d be there before I saw your car."

He wheeled around and slapped her upside the head.

“How did you know?” he growled. 

“I didn’t!” she cried. 

“Bullshit!” he spit back. He reached back to the tray and held out a needle.

“Is that bliss?” she asked. “Nothing I haven’t pushed through before.”

“No,” he said, with a smug air. “Sodium thiopental. Perhaps not the total truth serum you see in movies, but it can be helpful.”

Dana watched as he injected it into her arm. She didn’t feel the effects immediately, but soon enough she felt a building urge to giggle. It was like downing a glass of champagne. She felt light-headed and tipsy. If she had been standing she would have most likely fallen over. Jacob sat back and watched for a few minutes, waiting for it to totally take effect. 

“Deputy,” he started, snapping her attention back to him. “how did you know about my transport?” 

“Shit, that was such stupid luck,” she answered between giggles. “I was only going for the outpost, I’d been watching it for a few days. Waited for the other truck to leave, less people, and then you end up driving right into view!”

“Do you ever talk with people inside the cult?” Jacob poked.

“I don’t usually monologue before I kill them,” she laughed.

“Mhmm,” he stared at her, studying how she responded. 

“Have you been watching any other outposts?” he asked, leaning in closer to her.

“No, usually take ‘em one at a time,” she said earnestly.

“What about the whitetails?” he changed the line of questioning. “Have they asked you to help them with anything lately?”

“They wanted me to help them free up the radios,” she spilled, not even thinking about what she should and shouldn’t tell him. “Still haven’t gotten around to that. There’s something so satisfying about just clearing out an outpost on my own. For a guy that harps on culling the weak, are you sure your guys are strong enough?”  
Her inhibition was gone, and she felt super chatty now.

“I mean, they’re distracted all the time. Peggies fucking talk so much! And it’s all the same bullshit just phrased slightly differently. ‘Joseph’ this and ‘god’ that. How does a guy like you get looped into that shit anyways? You don’t seem the religious type.”

He didn’t move to respond, just kept staring at her calmly. He looked more than content to let her keep giving out information. 

“C’mon, talk to me,” she urged.

“How about you tell me more about the radios,” he suggested. “What did they want you to do for them?”

“Radios are so boring,” she groaned. “I wanna know why you’re in this mess to begin with. You love your brother, but like how into all this religious shit are you?”

“Whether or not she speaks to god, I don’t know,” he answered, slightly indulging her. “I don’t need to. I know the world is ready to fall apart, and Joseph is going to be prepared when it does.”

Dana was feeling too impulsive to carry a straight conversation.

“What happened to your arms?” she asked. “All the other stuff I saw seems to fit in with your backstory, but the arms I’m not sure about.”

“Why do you care?”

“I’m curious about your body,” she admitted without even thinking about it. He raised an eyebrow. She giggled in response, realizing the different implications of that  
statement.

“Yeah?” he prompted. “What about it?” He looked entertained by the twist her admissions had taken. 

“I don’t wanna humanize the enemy, but the marks on someones body tell a story,” she explained. “Ya know? And yours… seems like a long one.” She giggled even harder at that line.

“Ok, maybe not long,” she started, keeping on the dirty train of thought her mind had set her on. “Could be, I wouldn’t know. You can never be certain just by how someone acts.”

Jacob’s face looked lost, and she figured he must not have thought the same way she did. She snickered at the confusion in his face.

“It’s just, I said ‘seems like a long one,’” she tittered. “And I mean, I don’t know what you’re packing.”

She watched as he registered her immature suggestions. He scoffed and moved to stand.

“Serious and then immature,” he scolded. “It’s to be expected, but I don’t have to listen to it.”

Without any other words, he left the room as she called out after him, “Where ya going?”

Some short period of time passed before a nameless cultist entered. He kept a firm line of questioning, focusing on the whitetails and her knowledge of their planned targets. She didn’t have a ton of information to give out, as she wasn’t told about missions she wasn’t involved in. Eventually, she was injected with a second needle, although this time it wasn’t a drug to make her talk. By the time she woke up she was lying on the muddy floor of one of Jacob’s many outdoor cages. Fantastic, she thought sarcastically. She’d take Jacob’s bed over this any day.


	4. Target practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deputy gets thirsty asf, Jacob makes her do something before he'll quench her thirst. Sadly not as sexy as that summary makes it sound.

Dana didn’t terribly mind being stuck outside. She’d always liked nature. The views weren’t spectacular, but she could peacefully zone out looking at the tops of the trees and the tips of the mountains that weren’t blocked by the walls around the hospital. Sure, the smells could be better, but after the first day or two her nose had begun to adjust. She didn’t even smell the half eaten carcass of a wolf, deemed too weak, that rotted in the cage across from her. It was kind of entertaining to watch the occasional buzzard try to gain access to the meal.

She didn’t even terribly mind being hungry. She wanted food, sure, but hunger had been like a passing thunderstorm. It had ripped through her belly with loud growls and pain, but had subsided after the second day to a calm craving.

No, being out in nature was not the thing she minded. Nor was it hunger. It was the choking thirst that made her crave even a muddy puddle. It had been about six days now, with no rain in sight. No one brought the people in cages any food or water. She’d taken off her black long sleeved shirt in favor of the white tank underneath. She wanted to avoid sweating out whatever moisturize she still retained. 

She spent most of her time leaning against of the back of her cage. It was a well enough sized cell, a rectangular shape maybe 8 feet long for the sides at the back and front and at least 6 foot for the height and width. A bright green tarp covered the top and back, offering some shade.

She had closed her eyes to rest for a minute when a sudden clang made her jump. Jacob kicked another bar of her cage with his military style boot. He was wearing his normal get-up, army jacket and jeans. His dark orange hair was slicked to the side, but glistening in the sunlight.

“You wouldn’t be the first one to die just sitting in that cage,” he remarked coldly. She didn’t feel energized enough to reply. He stood and examined her a few seconds before turning to his cowering shadow. Pratt was gripping a metal canteen by it’s strap, and she hated the pity she saw in his eyes. Jacob held out a hand and Pratt immediately fulfilled his silent request. 

“Do you want this?” Jacob asked. She hated that. She hated him toying with her. They both knew she was thirsty as hell. He slowly rotated the cap off and swished the canteen around, allowing a few drops to spill out and drip down the sides.

“Standing at the other end of six days of thirsting makes you look positively gluttonous to me,” she snipped.

“Well, there’s no one to confess my sins to anymore,” he deadpanned. “Whether you confessed it or not, he knew yours.” 

Jacob gestured towards the single-lined letters that spelled “WRATH” across her sternum.

“But I don’t care about your sins,” he continued. “Tools don’t have sins, they have purposes.”

He paused.

“Do you want this?” he asked again, holding up the canteen.

“You already know I do,” she said, hating his position of power over her.

“Then answer me,” he replied. She supposed her pride was the last thing she _could _shallow.__

____

____

“Yes,” she bit out through cracked lips. He smiled, as if knowing John would have been happy was enough.

“Then you’ll do better than you did when you gave me this,” he pointed to the arm she’d grazed. Jacob nodded at Pratt, who shuffled to the cage and opened it. 

“C’mere,” Pratt instructed, waving her towards them. She felt weak, but she could still stand. She put great effort into walking as normally as possible, determined not to look frail in front of Jacob. She followed Jacob through the maze of cages as Pratt trailed behind them both. Jacob collected a large tan rifle case from a cultist that he hung over her shoulder along with the canteen which had since been closed. They started walking towards the front gate.

“I was in Iraq, during the first Gulf War,” Jacob began. “Eighty-second airborne. All-Americans, hoo-rah. One night, there was an ambush. Me and this guy named Miller got separated from the unit.”

Dana eyed the guards around them as they exited the compound.

“No food, no radio,” Jacob continued. “Nearest base two hundred clicks to the south, so we just started walking.”

They were further away now, and Dana started to wonder if she made a break for it if Pratt would actually use his pistol on her.

“Well, by the third day I knew we were lost,” Jacob said. “Day six, ran out of water. You know what that’s like, dontcha? Difficult to swallow.”

Dana decided he very well might, and fully tuned into Jacob’s story.

“On seventh day, Miller’s legs started going all wonky. Did you know your brain starts eating your muscles in order to survive? That’s why you’re so gotdamn skinny,” Jacob turned to motion to her body, which had thinned down quite a bit already. They had reached a bit of a hill, with a clear view of the meadow area ahead of them. Jacob lowered the rifle case and faced her fully.

“And by the eighth day, the wolves were closing in. And I looked at Miller an I could tell we’re as good as dead. And I accepted that. And in that acceptance, came _clarity _. You see, I wasn’t just looking at Miller. I was looking at an opportunity. It wasn’t something I wanted, it was something that I had to do. It was- it was my test. Now you see, Miller’s sacrifice wasn’t about me walking out of that desert. It was about bringing me here. The weak have their purpose. You’ll understand that soon enough.”__

____

____

She stared at him, if she wasn’t so focused on making sure she didn’t display the weakness he saw in her, her jaw would have been agape. Did he just admit to cannibalism? He pointed towards a wooden stand on the ground and then up towards targets that were set up in the field, which went back at least three football fields in length. 

“If you want to drink this water, you’ll do better than you did before,” he instructed. “Use your thirst to focus.” 

She understood what he wanted. He set the rifle bag up against the wooden stand and stepped back. She quickly got to work, unzipping the bag and unpacking the gun. It was the same as her own, except hers was dark green and camo and this one was ruby red.

“I like the color,” she said, turning to him with a smile. He made a disgruntled “hmpfh,” but she swore she saw his eyes smile a little at the compliment. 

It didn’t take long for her to sit the rifle up on the short stand. She crouched on her knees and began to aim down the sights.

“There’s three targets at every distance, with about eight different distances total,” Pratt chirped up to inform her. “You gotta shoot all of ‘em at least within second smallest rung.”

“How many did you get when you did your marksmanship training?” Dana turned to ask Jacob.

Her experience with training had taken about two weeks. At the end, the qualification test was hitting at least 23 out of 40 targets to get at least the marksmanship badge. Shooting 30 or more got you a sharpshooter badge, and 36 or more earned an “expert.”

If Jacob hadn’t been expecting questions about his personal life, he didn’t let it register on his face. 

“38,” he grunted, standing with his arms crossed, but looking ready as ever to grab his gun if she made a wrong move. She nodded with an impressed look on her face. Looking over to Pratt, she saw he’d pulled out a pair of binoculars to verify her shots.

She ignored the dryness of her mouth and took a deep breath, attempting to ascend past the physical distractions. Leaning into the sights, she lined up with one of the targets at the first distance. When her breathing had leveled, she started her shots. 1.. 2.. 3.. shoot. 1.. 2.. 3.. shoot. The closer ones were no problem. She was sure they went directly in the bulls-eye, which Pratt would verify with a “hit!” As she got to the further ones, she took a little longer to aim. But still, she’d gotten a good amount of practice with moving targets recently. In her peripheral, she saw Jacob crouch beside her, watching her aim and looking up to squint out at the targets.

“Good,” he praised when Pratt verified a perfect shot for one of them. She didn’t know why she liked that validation so much, why it drove her to want to do even better. When she had finished the last one, she pulled off her earmuffs and looked at Pratt.

“How’d I do?” she asked.

“You were at least in the second rung for all of them,” he seemed to be pleased to report. “Bulls-eyes for a quite few.” 

“Perfect,” Jacob commended, holding out the canteen. Dana didn’t care about seeming weak anymore, she whipped it out of his hand and hurriedly undid the lid. She drank sloppily, letting the refreshing water run into her mouth and down her chin. She had almost drained the whole thing before she took a breath of air. 

Pulling it back from her lips, her eyes snapped to Jacob’s, which had rested on her shirt. Looking down, she realized she’d let enough water spill to drench her front. Her white tank top was soaked and exposed the bra and breast underneath. When she turned her attention back to Jacob, his eyes had darkened but he was looking away from her now. 

“You’re good with still targets, but you’ll need to practicing on moving ones too,” he murmured. He held a hand out for the canteen, which she reluctantly gave back. 

After all the gear was packed up, they formed the same formation and walked back to St. Francis. Before they got to her cage, Dana watched as Jacob pulled something out of his pocket.

He turned to face her and held up the object. The music box. She could remember what had happened to her the last time. Just as she started to protest, he opened the box and she felt the world fall out from under her as the red seeped into her eyes. 

TRAIN. HUNT. KILL. SACRIFICE.

She woke up in a mass of bodies in the middle of the forest. Her head was throbbing. Her gear was thrown next to her. All she could remember was shooting her way through the same course, everything doused in red. Her mind had vibrated with excitement with every praise she had received. But still, no more reckless decisions. She never wanted to see St. Francis again. She never wanted to hear that song again. She knew in her gut that there was a bigger plan at play, and she didn’t want to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for taking a bit to get around to this, college and two jobs is no fun. Hoping to get another chapter done in the next few days. :)


End file.
